


The Widow and the Hawk

by TashaRomanovna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaRomanovna/pseuds/TashaRomanovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black Widow does have a heart. What happens when it's ripped from her chest?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Widow and the Hawk

Natasha fired off two more shots from her bracelets, felling the two thugs coming at her. She whirled around and evaluated the room. Men littered the floor, either stunned or suffering from bullet wounds.

“Clint, status?” She said, two fingers pressed to her ear as she picked her way to the door at the opposite end of the room. Static was her only response.

She unholstered her second gun and gripped the weapon tightly in her hand. Guns in her hands, she kicked the door and entered the room. Clint had disappeared through here awhile ago while Natasha held off the guards.

Her guns clattered to the floor as she took in the room. Arrows were scattered everywhere, and a broken bow lay a few feet from Clint. He was lying on the ground, arm reaching for his weapon. Natasha didn’t hesitate; she ran, then dropped to her knees and practically slide next to him. He had small cuts along his arms and torso. Some of them were deep cuts, staining his uniform a dark red. A knife was buried deep into his chest.

Horror washed over Natasha. Numbly, she checked his pulse. She knew it was useless. But the motion was familiar, something they always did whenever one of them was injured. Except, this time, no heartbeat met her fingers. Clint didn’t give her a weak smile. He didn’t hold her wrist and tell her everything was alright.

She began to cry. She slid her hand into his lifeless one. Her partner, the one who had risked everything on the off chance that she wasn’t a total lost cause. The one who taught her that trusting someone was allowed. The one who she had fallen completely in love with, and would give anything to have back.

“Я люблю тебя Клинт.” Natasha whispered, resting her forehead against Clint’s.

Eventually, she sat up and wiped the tears from her face. Coulson would be expecting a report by now. Natasha took a steadying breath and released her hand from her partner’s. She grabbed the radio out of her belt and clicked it on.

“Agent Romanoff. Mission status?” Coulson’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“Agent Barton has been killed in the line of duty.” Natasha swallowed. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to ensure her voice didn’t break. Coulson stayed quiet for a long minute.

“We’ll be right over.” He clicked off in a burst of static.

Natasha put the radio down, surprised at the calm she felt. No, this wasn’t calm. This was rage. The kind of rage that simmered just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed. For a moment, Coulson became the outlet for her anger. Oh, she was mad at him. But the people she should be targeting were the ones responsible for the death of Clint Barton.

——————————————

“Natasha, I am so sorry.” Coulson said as soon as the med team left the room, carrying Clint away on a stretcher. Natasha accepted Coulson’s embrace. She had been on autopilot ever since the S.H.I.E.L.D. team had arrive a few hours ago.

She dealt in death; it shouldn’t affect her like this. Her and Clint had gone into the relationship knowing that it was very likely one of them would wind up dead.

Still didn’t soften the blow at all.

She pulled away from Coulson. “I would like to take some time off.”

He nodded. “Of course. Should I alert the team about what happened?”

“No. I’ll tell them myself.” She replied, heading out the door and into the waiting jet.

———————————

The jet ride back to the States from Guatemala was quiet. Coulson and his agents had left Natasha alone. He had personally driven her back to the Tower without a word spoken between them.

So when she entered the Tower, the noise of people going about their daily lives startled her. Tony had music playing through the living room’s speakers, and there was a rather rowdy discussion going on. Natasha stood in the elevator for a moment, steeling herself. She’d never pictured delivering news like this. With one last deep breath, she exited the elevator. The Avengers lounged around on the couches spread throughout the room. Takeout boxes littered the table.

“Nat, how was the mission?”

“Hey Nat! Didn’t think you guys would be back so fast.”

“Romanoff, kill all the bad guys?”

Everyone talked over each other, greeting her with smiles. Natasha smiled back, taking a seat on the couch she usually shared with Clint.

“It was, uh, it was good.” She looked down, her smile falling away.

“Hey, where’s Clint?” Steve asked.

“Probably climbing up the air vents.” Tony replied.

“Nah, he’s probably taking a nap.” Bruce said.

“No, he’s not doing either.” Natasha swallowed, ignoring the burning in her eyes. She looked up again, facing everyone.

“Clint was killed.” The words fell like a stone from her lips.

They all froze. Tony shut the music off, plunging them into stunned silence. Steve got up from his chair and sat next to Natasha, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn’t acknowledge him; she was too busy fighting back tears. There was no way she would cry in front of the team.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She stood up abruptly, Steve’s hand falling to his side. Natasha walked backed to the elevators, leaning against the doors as soon as they closed. Tears blurred her vision.

Alone in her room, she slid against the door, wrapping her arms around her knees. She would never again feel his fingers through her hair. Never again curl up against him under the sheets. His coffee mug would remain unused. The seat next to her on their couch would remain empty.

Natasha eventually wiped her tears from her face and stood up.

——————————————

Clint’s funeral was a small affair. Natasha watched it all from the shadows of a nearby rooftop as they laid his coffin into the grave. Pepper had organized it all with her usual efficiency.

A small breeze blew Natasha’s hair into her face. It was a nice afternoon. Clint would have insisted on going for a swim, or maybe they would’ve taken Lucky for a walk in the park. She would miss those afternoons with nothing to do other than be around Clint.

The Avengers gathered around Clint’s grave, probably saying a few words. Natasha would say her piece long after everyone had left. Officially, she had been absent from duty for the last week. She’d asked for an indefinite leave of absence, and Coulson obliged. It wasn’t necessarily protocol, but Strike Team Delta wasn’t exactly known for following protocol to the letter.

Slowly, the team filed away from the cemetery. Natasha followed their progress, making sure they all had exited the parking lot.

The climb down from the building was easy enough, but with every step, she felt a weight settle on her chest. She walked slowly to the grave. They had yet to bury him. Natasha took the rosebud from behind her ear and dropped it onto his coffin.

“Спасибо.” She whispered. Natasha left the graveyard without a backwards glance.

—————————————

Back at her apartment, she gathered her weapons. Guns were polished, knives were sharpened, and she made sure her garrote wire was functional.

Natasha packed everything in a duffel bag, including her suit and some changes of clothes. She reached into one of the zippered pockets in the bag, feeling for a small velvet bag. She pulled it out and untied the drawstrings, turning it over into her palm. A plain silver ring lay against her skin.

Three months ago, Clint had proposed to her. They’d been sitting at a restaurant in Montenegro when he popped the question. Natasha hardly ever wore the ring, mainly because she didn’t want to lose it in the middle of a battle. And, if she was being honest with herself, it represented something she didn’t think she was worthy of having. Clint had understood and was more than happy to call her his fiancée when they were alone.

Natasha closed her fist around the ring, debating with herself. Finally, she decided to slip it on her finger. Let them see exactly who they had killed. She would make them feel her pain, her loss.

She zipped the duffel bag closed and swung it over her shoulder. With one last glance around the apartment, Natasha left the building.

—-—Six months later—-—

The S.H.I.E.L.D. office fell quiet as the door opened. Agents gaped in shock as the Black Widow strode past the front desk and went straight to the elevators. The woman stationed at the desk didn’t ask for an identification card.

Everyone had been on high alert for any sign of Natasha Romanoff. She’d disappeared six months ago, after the funeral of Clint Barton. Coulson had expected her to take a month or two off, but after three months, he sent out and official notice for a missing agent.

 

And then they found her trail.

All over the world, cells of the cartel that had killed Clint were being found dead in their safe houses. S.H.I.E.L.D always arrived hours after Natasha had been through, leaving them guessing. They couldn’t set a trap for her, as she wasn’t classified as a rogue agent, and she would expect them to try and catch her. Some agents grumbled that both Fury and Coulson were being too lenient with her. The Avengers had conveniently stepped out of the manhunt, saying that sure, they’d keep a lookout for her, but they wouldn’t launch an all out search.

Natasha strode past the rows of cubicles that led to Coulson’s office. Fury would get a piece of her mind in due time, but this one was on Coulson.

She entered the office without knocking. Coulson looked up from the stack of papers on his desk.

“Agent Romanoff.”

“It’s your fault, Coulson.” She said without preamble.

“How-“

“You had bad intel. In fact, it was plain wrong.” Natasha placed her hands on the edge of the desk.

“We’ve received bad intel before, Romanoff. I’ve been looking into the intelligence agent responsible for this. It’s not the first time he’s given wrong information before.”

“All that matters, Coulson, is that Clint Barton is dead. You sent us on this mission.”

It was then that Phil noticed the ring on Natasha’s left hand. “You don’t think I realize that?” 

Natasha swallowed.

“His death has affected everyone. I’ve lost a member of my best team, and oh yeah, I’ve also lost an Avenger.” Coulson slumped in his seat.

She glanced at the ring on her finger. Tears pooled in her eyes. “We both know he was much more than just a team member.” She looked back up at Coulson. “You’ll have to find another Strike Team Delta.” With that, Natasha strode out of the office.

She drove away from headquarters, from the Tower. It would be easier to leave without saying any goodbyes.


End file.
